


Avoiding the Road

by thepinupchemist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Bottom Castiel, Emotionally Repressed Dean, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Power Bottom Castiel, Repressed Dean, Romantic Castiel, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Dean, Top Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 06:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5995000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepinupchemist/pseuds/thepinupchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean accidentally falls into a relationship with the world's most thoughtful man, an elementary school teacher named Castiel. He resists the intimacy at first, until he realizes that Cas might be the best thing to ever happen to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avoiding the Road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remembered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remembered/gifts).



**Soundtrack: Vagabond – MisterWives**

**_Avoiding the Road_ **

They’re not together, okay? Or they’re sort of together. Dean’s not sure, but he knows whatever this thing is with Cas tends to include sex in the equation. Dean didn’t intend to get involved with the guy, but it happened anyway and now Dean’s rolling with what he think might be some kind of romantic entanglement.

As with most of his questionable decisions, his relationship with Castiel Novak began at a bar. That’s how phone conversation with John Winchester generally ended – with Dean at a bar. This particular time, Dean had ducked out of his shift at this crappy nine-to-five telemarketing gig that he loathed, but ultimately the fourteen dollars an hour trumped his hatred of his job. No sooner than two seconds out of the front door of the building, and John Winchester’s name flashed across the screen of his phone. Dean answered the call, and instead of walking toward the Impala to drive back home, he turned to head down the sidewalk to the crappy dive a couple blocks away.

Apparently Sam let it slip that Dean went out with a guy. _Once._ His name was Aaron and Dean liked him all right but not enough for more than a quick handie in the backseat of the Impala and definitely not enough for a second date.

_So you’re a queer now?_

_Don’t bother coming home for Christmas if you’re bringing a man with you._

_No son of mine –_

Dean hung up after that, and just in time to hit the doors of The Roadhouse. He made a beeline for the bar, ordered a whiskey, and sat down to drink away another conversation with his father. A few drinks in, this hot guy sat down next to Dean and Dean being in a spiteful mood thought – what if I fucked him?

Fortunately, the guy seemed amenable to that. Dark hair, blue eyes, nice shoulders – all tucked into a neat little suit that seemed out of place for a scummy joint like The Roadhouse (Dean would never tell Ellen he thought that. He loved the place but it _was_ dirty). Dean laid the charm on thick, and bing-bang-boom: they ended up tearing at each other’s clothes. It’s a little hazy, but Dean’s pretty sure he railed Cas that night, considering the hitch in his steps the following morning.

And that was the kicker, wasn’t it? The following morning. Dean woke up and yanked his cigarette-and-beer scented clothes, wrinkling his nose at _eau de bar,_ and stumbled out into the apartment with every intention of quietly slipping out and moving on with his life.

But Cas was making breakfast. He told Dean his name was Castiel and that he had a lot of fun, and that he was pleased to meet Dean, and did he like his eggs sunny side up?

Cas had placed a plate of breakfast in front of Dean and Dean blinked down at what was, quite possibly, the most thoughtful breakfast he’d ever received from somebody he’d nailed into a mattress the night before. Two eggs, with strips of bacon for eyebrows and a smile. Castiel made Dean a smiley face out of breakfast.

And that’s why his thing with Cas evolved past a one-night stand and into something that included grabbing coffee on Dean’s lunch break, or hanging out and grabbing takeout. Oh, and also sex. Lots and lots of sex. Every time that it happened Dean told himself that it would be the last time. In truth, his date with Aaron had been an anomaly. Dean didn’t date guys; he just fucked them. Sometimes. Barely ever. He couldn’t get into a relationship with one, but here he was, doing it anyway.

So that’s why Dean is walking up the sidewalk to Cas’ tiny little house on Valentine’s Day. They’ve been doing this thing for a grand total of two entire weeks, but Dean didn’t have anything to do on V-Day and if he could get some with somebody whose company he enjoyed, then why the hell not?

They agreed upon no gifts. If Cas were a girl, Dean would have brought flowers anyway. But Cas is a guy, and they’re just two dudes, hanging out and being dudes and doing dude stuff, and maybe having sex with each other later.

Dean knocks on Cas’ door. When it swings open, the smell of baking pastry spills out onto the worn porch.

“Dean,” Cas greets with a gummy smile, “Come in. I’m just finishing up.”

“What’s cooking?” asks Dean.

“Well, you said that you like pie, so I decided to bake you one,” Cas says, “I hope that apple is okay. That’s the kind I’m best at.”

“Dude!” exclaims Dean, “We said no gifts.”

“I know, I know, but I wanted to anyway,” Cas tells him. He leans into Dean and pecks a chaste kiss onto his lips before he goes on, “I don’t mind that you didn’t bring anything. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

Annoyance at Cas and the desire to eat homemade apple pie wage war in Dean’s brain, but as it does every time, his desire for pie wins and he follows Castiel into the kitchen in time to watch Cas pull on an oven mitt and set a sweetly fragrant, perfectly browned crumble-top apple pie onto the stovetop.

“Cas, you son of a bitch,” Dean whistles, “That pie could be on the cover of a magazine.”

“You think so?” asks Cas, “I did work very hard on it. I wanted it to be perfect for you. Valentine’s Day is about showing another person affection, after all.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something cutting back, because he didn’t sign up for this. He didn’t ask for a relationship with Cas and he didn’t ask Cas to like him and he sure as hell didn’t ask Cas to bake him a perfect crumble-top apple pie, but all those things seem to be happening whether or not Dean planned for them to, and if there’s one day when Dean probably shouldn’t be an asshole, it’s on Valentine’s Day to the guy he’s currently banging.

Cas has old Adam West Batman movies queued up to watch, and Dean falls just a little bit more into the pit that this whole thing is becoming. He’s jumping into this void, even if the void is a dude, because the void also has Batman movies and apple pie.

How does Cas know him so well already? It’s been two freaking weeks.

Despite himself, Dean ends up having a fantastic fucking time, just like every time that he’s hung out with Cas. They start out eating still-steaming slices of pie on opposite ends of Castiel’s couch and end up meeting in the middle sometime during the first movie. By the time that the credits begin to roll, Dean has his arm slung over Cas’ shoulders and Cas is nuzzling into his neck and –

Okay, they’re making out.

All right, they’re heading back to Cas’ bedroom. But this is the _last_ time. They’re not in a relationship. They’re just having sex. Sex that apparently comes with Castiel doing thoughtful things on a notoriously romantic holiday, but it’s still just sex. And then there won’t be sex, and Dean will move on like he always does.

At least that’s what he tells himself later, when he’s naked and sweating with his limbs loose and slung over Castiel’s body.

**X**

It isn’t a relationship.

It _isn’t._

Except now it’s been three months instead of two weeks, and Dean is running out of excuses to tell himself. He comes up with reasons to go to the aquarium with Cas (he’d never been before, okay?), or to the botanic gardens (Sam is always bugging him to get out of the house and do new things), or just enjoy each other’s company and trash TV before making out and possibly fucking or maybe just falling asleep snuggled together (he had a hard day at work and deserves to treat himself).

Dean should have known that his brother would be onto him, and thinks that he might get away with not talking about the intimate details of his life, but the moment that Dean walks into The Roadhouse and sits in a sticky booth beside Sam, his brother lifts a brow and says, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, “What’s up with you?”

“Nice try,” Sam says, “but you’re acting shifty and that means something important is going on. You’re a crap liar, Dean.”

“I’m not –” Dean sighs and lets his shoulders droop, “Fine. But you’re buying me a beer first.”

Sam grins, more than happy to comply with his goddamn fancy lawyer salary and ample disposable income to spend on beers for his significantly poorer older brother. Dean takes a long drink from his beer mug and contemplates if there’s still a way to get out of talking to Sam about this, but he’s pretty sure he entered into a contract the second that he said he’d fess up for the price of one beer. He should’ve negotiated for more.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean says, thumbing the moisture on the outside of the glass in his hand. He takes another drink and wishes he were a cheaper date. This shit would be far easier to discuss if he were drunk.

“Yeah?” Sam says, “That’s great. Who is it? How long have you been seeing her?”

“Um,” Dean starts, and coughs. He avoids looking at Sam and carefully chooses his words before he goes on, “I keep telling myself it’s not a real relationship, but they do all this nice shit and the sex good, like _really good_ , Sammy, but I’m not sure if a relationship is a good idea. And then every time I think about bringing it up, I get sidetracked because they’ll do something cool or sweet or some shit and then I forget to break it off.”

Sam waits for Dean to look back up, and has that asshole expression on his face that says _you’re an idiot, Dean Winchester._ He asks, “It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

“What? What makes you say that?” Dean doesn’t let his voice waver or break and he’s proud, okay?

“The carefully edited gender neutral pronouns, for one,” Sam says, ticking it off on his fingers, “Two, you’ve been refusing to call yourself bisexual since guy one. And three, if this person were a girl and doing all these nice things for you, there’s no way in hell you’d be complaining. This guy is clearly a saint.”

“I know!” Dean says, and slams his fist down on the table, “That’s the problem. He’s a saint, and I’m a mess, and you know what? You’re right. It’s weird to me that he’s a guy, especially since dad threatened to cut me off if I ever showed up home for the holidays with a dude.”

“He did what?” echoes Sam, “Oh, fuck that. If he doesn’t let you and your…partner come home for Christmas, then I’m not going to come with Jess either. He either has both of us or neither of us. You know that.”

“I guess,” Dean says, mostly to fill the silence that follows.

Sam takes a long drink of beer and exhales. He says, “Look. Whatever you have with this guy, I think it’s a good thing. You look happy, Dean. Do you know how long it’s been since you looked happy? I worry about you, and it sounds like you have somebody, a really great somebody, taking care of you.”

And damn, Dean hates when Sam is so right.

**X**

_5:03 Dean: god work was a fuckin shitshow today_

_5:04 Dean: no i do not have your paperwork phyllis that is your goddamn job y the fuck would I have it_

_5:04 Dean: dean i need u to drop everything and do this for me_

_5:04 Dean: dean ur a slave to the system_

_5:05 Dean: dean ur dreams are dead and u call people all day to sell them useless crap they don’t need_

_5:07 Cas: Is there anything I can do to help?_

_5:08 Dean: hang on gonna drive home_

When Dean arrives back at his apartment, he swaps his slacks and button-down for a far more comfortable ensemble of gray sweatpants and a well-loved Led Zeppelin t-shirt that he’s pretty sure he’s had since high school. He flops down on his couch with a groan and looks ceiling-ward.

The apartment feels so empty.

Spending so much time with Cas lately makes being in his own apartment feel lonely. He doesn’t like that, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to bug Cas and drag him over to his apartment just so he can whine and kvetch about how much he wants to stick his boss’ face in a fucking blender. He runs both hands back through his hair and considers ordering in Chinese, but Dean’s been trying not to spend so much money on takeout and start nutting up and eating some crappy microwave meals like every other poor person on the planet.

Only, as Dean pulls a Hungry Man dinner out of his freezer with just a little disdain, somebody knocks on his apartment door. He leaves the frozen slop sitting out on his counter to put in the microwave after he answers the door. It’s probably Mrs. Hewley asking about her cat again (if she didn’t open her door all the way when she answered it, the cat wouldn’t be a goddamn problem).

It’s not Mrs. Hewley.

It’s Castiel. With pizza box perched on his arm and a six pack of beers balanced on top of that.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, “Something wrong?”

“No,” Castiel says, “but I know you had a bad day, so I brought you some beer and a pizza. Meat lover’s, before you ask.”

He’s dead. Dean is dead. That must be what this is, because in no other universe but the afterlife would Dean be granted a hot dude carrying pizza and beer to lift Dean’s spirits out of the goodness of his heart. His insides melt like ice cream in the sun and his gut ties up in happy knots.

Dean opens the door all the way and says, “You’re a friggin’ dream, Cas.”

Dean smiles and Cas smiles back, a smile that makes Dean’s heart skip a beat. Oh, this is bad. This isn’t the typical boner-bouncing lust that Dean associates with Cas, but actual writhing feelings everywhere, all over him. He’s screwed, because he cares. He entered into this thing because Castiel made him a smiley-face breakfast and has the bluest eyes that Dean has ever seen, and now he’s in too deep.

Worse still, Dean doesn’t want out. He leans forward and captures Cas’ mouth in an enthusiastic kiss, smoothing his dark hair back with one hand and taking the pizza box and beer balanced on top it with the other. Dean walks the pizza to the kitchen counter, opens the box wide and takes a hot slice. The pizza is heavenly, so good it’s like an angel has come down from the heavens and presented Dean with this very meal.

Considering the bullshit day that Dean endured at work, the night ends pretty dang good. He kicks back on the couch with Cas and the pizza and a couple of beers, and they watch trash television for the sole comfort of knowing that at least they aren’t the people that appear on Maury Povitch.

Dean knows that Cas has ideas when he offers Dean a couple of Tic Tacs. Dean doesn’t mind a pizza-flavored kiss, but if he’s gonna get as frisky as he wants to with Cas then it’s better that they both taste good instead of like loaded pizza.

When they kiss, it feels better than every time before. Maybe it’s because Dean is putting his heart into the kiss, or maybe it’s because Cas tastes like beer and Tic Tacs, or maybe there’s nothing remarkable about it at all and that’s what makes the kiss so perfect: Dean can have these kisses whenever he wants. He has these kisses at the end of crappy days, and he has these kisses to celebrate the good ones.

Cas threads his hands through Dean’s hair and pulls his further into the kiss, sweeping his tongue into Dean’s mouth, pressing in to explore and map the points that make Dean moan.

“Bed?” rasps Dean.

“Bed,” agrees Cas.

They stumble together through Dean’s boxy living room, Dean shucking his shirt while he runs and Castiel laughing after him. Cas tackles him and they bounce onto the mattress, face to face and grinning. A moment suspends, just a second longer than usual where they stare at one another. Dean doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows Cas feels whatever weird difference Dean is feeling now. Then, Cas lowers his lips and covers Dean’s mouth with his own, and they’re lost.

Dean lets Cas steer them where he pleases. He arches into the touch when Cas smooths his hand over Dean’s bare chest and thumbs at his nipple, and he whimpers when Cas moves his mouth to Dean’s throat and scrapes his teeth over the sensitive skin. Cas kisses him everywhere his skin is exposed, and when Cas’ lips reach the places on Dean’s body still covered by clothing he makes a point of removing it, peeling Dean’s sweatpants off and yanking away the boxers without ceremony.

“You’re gorgeous,” Cas says.

He always says things like that to Dean, little words of praise that make Dean preen and his dick hard. Dean never says anything back, but tonight he reaches up to cup Cas’ stubbly cheek and strokes his thumb over the scratchy skin as he replies, “You too, beautiful.”

The clear surprise that flits across Cas’ face makes Dean feel like an asshole, but he’ll dwell on it later. For now he wants Cas to take his damn clothes off, because one of them is naked, and one of them still has everything but his shoes on and that simply will not fly. Dean tucks his hands underneath Cas’ t-shirt and pulls it off, undoes the jeans and pulls Cas’ socks off one at a time. He indulges just a little in rubbing the outline of Cas’ erection through his cotton boxer briefs before he gets rid of those, too.

Dean kisses places on Castiel he’s never dared to before. Maybe he thought that if he didn’t kiss Cas like a lover that this thing between them wouldn’t become real, but it’s always been real and Dean was an idiot. He runs the flat of his tongue over Cas’ nipples and makes him squirm, tongues down the plane of Cas’ stomach and the lithe muscle of his legs before he takes the head of Cas’ cock into his mouth. Dean’s never done this before, period.

Having a dick in his mouth isn’t as strange as he expects it to be. Something about the way that Cas tastes and smells between his legs makes Dean even hotter under his skin. Even though he can’t fit all of Cas’ length into his mouth, he takes what he can, and uses his hand to jack the rest while he experiments with twists of his tongue and soft sucking, things he knows that he likes when people do them to him.

Cas grabs Dean’s hair. His hips jerk up and he says, “Dean, Dean, I –”

And Dean pulls away just in time to get a face full of Cas’ come.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cas says.

Dean wipes away what he can with a discarded t-shirt and says, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the hang of that eventually. You look pretty awesome when you come. Just sayin’.”

Cas smiles that hesitant smile, like he doesn’t expect Dean to say nice things to him, and Dean feels like a heel again for ever making this man feel this way. Not any man, either. _His_ man. Cas is his, and he should have realized that long ago. He kisses Cas and then asks, “How do you wanna do this?”

“Mm,” Cas hums, “Ride you?”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean grins.

Again, Dean lets Castiel manhandle him. Cas puts Dean on his back and tells him to stay there. By now he knows where Dean stashes his lube, a little intimacy that Dean never noticed before but he notices it now because he’s noticing all of them at once.

Lube in hand, Cas crawls back up the bed and straddles Dean. He ducks down for a quick, dirty kiss before sitting up straight again, and opening up the lube. Cas douses his fingers. When he reaches behind himself, Dean throws his head back against the pillows and groans. Watching Cas finger himself open is one of his favorite things to see, and how did he never realize that before?

Cas is two fingers deep when Dean rests his palm against Cas’ hip and says, “You’re so damn pretty when you do that. Did you know that?”

While Castiel despite having fingers in his ass was not blushing before, he turns pink now. He rides back on his own hand and says, “You’re a flatterer, Dean Winchester.”

“I’m telling the truth, you shit,” Dean says back.

Cas doesn’t reply to that beyond a fond roll of his eyes.

Once he’s worked open, Cas slicks up Dean’s dick. Just the feeling of Cas’ fingers on Dean’s cock makes his whole body tighten up like a bowstring. Shit, he’s not going to last very long at this rate, especially not with Cas looking down at Dean like he’s starving and Dean is dinner. Cas grips Dean’s cock at the base, sidles up, and inch by inch, lowers himself down onto it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean manages, moaning.

Sex doesn’t get better than this, Dean thinks, but Jesus, it does. Dean holds Cas’ hips in his hands, but Cas is the one steering this ship. He grinds back on Dean in a filthy little circle. Dean whines, tells him to do it again, and Cas does. He fucks onto Dean real slow-like, a feral glint in his too-blue eyes. He watches Dean carefully, and Dean wavers between watching back and squeezing his eyes closed to ride out the sensation.

“Close,” Dean whispers.

Cas stops grinding and starts fucking. He lifts himself up and slams himself back down. The sound of damp skin slapping skin fills the room with a rhythm. Dean’s making noise but he’s not sure he can actually hear himself. He just digs his fingers into Cas’ hips and lets it happen, lets the heat build low in his belly and then swell, higher and higher until the pleasure of one _hell_ of an orgasm punches through him. He rears up off of the mattress, body deep inside Cas as he comes.

A solid couple of minutes pass before Dean even remembers how to speak.

“Damn,” he says.

“That was…” Cas says, and trails off.

“Amazing?” Dean suggests.

A loopy little smile lifts the corners of Cas’ mouth. He agrees, “Amazing. It was amazing.”

Though both of them are heavy-limbed and tired, Dean still corrals them both into the shower, where he tries to make up for being standoffish all this time by shampooing Cas’ hair and scrubbing him clean, kissing his wet skin as soon as he rinses the soap bubbles away.

Cas borrows a set of Dean’s pajamas and they flop into bed without words. Though the long day and energetic sex has Dean exhausted, he finds that he can’t fall asleep. Cas is out like a light beside him, snoring softly. Dean cuddles up behind him and presses his chest to Cas’ back and his nose to the back of Cas’ neck. Cas smells like Dean’s shampoo but his own skin, and something about that almost makes Dean want to wake Castiel up for round two.

But he doesn’t. Dean just breathes in deep. He needs to make everything up to Cas. He’s been a dick these past months when this great guy was treating Dean like a king. He’d get Cas back with something friggin’ awesome – as soon as he figured out what that would be.

**X**

Dean can’t hide his excitement over Cas’ surprise at seeing the Impala out in front of the elementary school that he teaches at. Dean rolls down the window and says, “Heya, handsome. Happy birthday.”

Cas lifts a brow, but opens the car door and sets his laptop bag down on the floor in front of the passenger’s seat before he climbs in. He says, “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you out for your birthday,” Dean says.

Cas gives him another look and says, “We don’t have to do anything for my birthday. It’s a superficial marker of the passage of time.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass,” Dean says back, “I’m taking you out.”

I’m going to make the past several freaking months up to you, is not what Dean says, but it’s what he thinks. He is going to give Castiel the best damn birthday of his life and he hopes that’s not a tall order because he’s only paid attention so much. Being an attentive boyfriend is not as simple as it sounds. But he’s trying. He’s trying to be better, because Cas deserves Dean at his best.

Dean pulls the Impala out of the school parking lot and turns off to the right. He has a table reserved for them at Cas’ favorite burger place, Hamburger Heaven. When they turn into the parking lot out in front of the diner, Cas’ face lights right up and he says, “This place makes me very happy.”

“I know,” Dean says, and leans over to kiss Cas’ cheek once he’s parked the car, “that’s why I brought you here.”

There’s an intense amount of satisfaction in watching Cas grin when they walk into the diner, smiling at all the wait staff, whose uniforms have wings embroidered on the back. The walls are blue and painted to look like clouds, though the usual diner paraphernalia of sports equipment and tributes to musicians and classic cars cover the clouds in clusters. Dean asked for the table right at the front of the diner, the one with the best view of the street, so that Cas can people watch like he likes to do.

And hey, Dean gets a great burger out of this trip too. It’s juicy and tender and perfectly cooked, and Dean understands why Cas is so into Hamburger Heaven. He’s sold one hundred percent of the way when the pie is just as good as the burger (although nothing will compare to Castiel’s homemade crumble-top apple pie). He’s glad to have a full belly for this next part, because it makes Dean squeamish but he knows it’ll make Cas happy.

“Maybe we can watch that film with the family in the hippie van when we get home,” Cas muses on their way out. Dean tipped their waitress generously just to get another grin out of Cas.

“Little Miss Sunshine?” Dean ventures.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Sure, Cas, we can do that,” says Dean, “But I got another present for you first.”

“Dean,” Cas admonishes, “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah, stupid, I know that,” Dean answers, “but I wanted to.” Words that Cas has said to Dean over and over, and finally Dean can pay him back in kind.

The second half of Dean’s surprise lies some distance outside of town, in the countryside outskirts. Cas asks where they’re going and Dean tells him three times that it’s a surprise and he’s not saying, which is worth it for the soft gasp Cas makes when he sees that they’re turning onto a dirt road labeled with a wooden sign that advertises Holly Acres Honey Farm.

“We’re going to see bees?” he says hopefully.

Dean winks, but doesn’t say a thing.

By the time that Dean parks the Impala, Cas is practically vibrating in his seat. He sprints to the front of the picturesque Victorian-style building that takes up only a small parcel of land in a sprawl of acres. Dean has to run to catch up, and he’s panting when Cas knocks at the door and it swings open. Dean met with the beekeeper beforehand, but he’s still intimidated by the sight of Cain’s face.

“You must be Castiel,” Cain says.

“Yes,” Castiel says, “Dean says he brought me here for a surprise.”

“Dean tells me that you’re very fond of bees,” Cain says.

“Oh, yes,” replies Castiel, “Bees are crucial to our ecosystem and that matters very much to me.”

“Excellent answer,” Cain tells him, “Why don’t you follow me back to the hives?”

“Don’t we need protective gear?” asks Dean.

“If you don’t hurt them, they shouldn’t hurt you,” Cain says pointedly. Dean is not comforted by the sentiment, and wonders if it’s possible to train bees. Probably not. God, he does not like bugs but this shit is not about him. It’s about stupid, wonderful Castiel that Dean owes months of happiness to.

The hives stand in a line, neat wooden boxes with no swarms of insects as Dean expected to see and be terrified by.

“Dean has led me to believe that you have read material on beekeeping,” Cain goes on.

“I have, extensively,” Castiel answers, “I hope one day to purchase my own hive and I wanted to be prepared.”

“Dean is very perceptive, then,” Cain says, “because you do own a hive, now. He’s purchased one from me. He thought that you might like to pick among the hives that I have for sale.”

Castiel whirls around to stare at Dean. Dean offers a self-conscious smile and a wave. His heart beats rapidly, and he hopes that Cas won’t think that Dean overdid this shit, or that Dean was too presumptuous and Cas would rather have waited for the hive at a later date. It was just that he spoke about it so much, and he couldn’t afford to set aside the money with the rent on his little house and his teacher’s salary and –

“Oh, _Dean_.”

Cas leaps at Dean and throws his arms around his neck. He kisses him square on the mouth. A loud smacking noise sounds when they part, and Cas is smiling like sunshine. He says, “This is a wonderful gift. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a perfect birthday.”

Dean pecks his lips to Cas’ forehead and says, “Look, I wanted to…” he stops, considers his words. Dean practiced what he would say to Cas but now all the things he said in the mirror are sticking on his tongue. He clears his throat and tries again with, “I know I was a dick at first. A big dick, for a while. I-I was worried about things that didn’t matter as much as I thought they did and I didn’t treat you real good and now I – I wanted to make you as happy as you make me. I care about you, like really care about you. I thought maybe I might be able to call you my boyfriend?”

Cas lets out a laugh, the kind of laugh that escapes a person when they’re overjoyed. He says, “Of course you can, Dean.”


End file.
